


every night finds a dawn

by hezenvengeance



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: F/M, Family Feels, Family Reunions, Father-Daughter Relationship, Late Night Conversations, Long Lost/Secret Relatives, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Multi, Parent Cor Leonis, Young Chocobros (Final Fantasy XV)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-03
Updated: 2020-02-04
Packaged: 2021-02-20 22:04:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,338
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22550446
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hezenvengeance/pseuds/hezenvengeance
Summary: At last Ignis had leaned back in his seat, taken a confident drag of Ebony and steepled his fingers over the can, training his eyes on hers. The look had sent her mind down to the gutter, but such thoughts had quickly fled at the next thing he said: ‘We know who your father is.’Rina finds her place amongst the boys was perhaps predestined. Cor finds something he thought he'd lost for good.
Relationships: Cor Leonis & Original Character(s), Gladiolus Amicitia/Ignis Scientia/Original Character(s), Ignis Scientia/Original Character(s)
Kudos: 8





	1. the revelation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things have come to light that Rina would of rathered stay hidden. But, perhaps opening up isn't _quite_ as bad as she's been led to believe, when the right people are listening.
> 
> * * *

“You’re sure?”

Rina studies the picture lighting up Noct’s phone, quadruple checking despite the heavy weight in her heart, sure and steadfast. The portrait of one Cor Leonis, Marshal of the Crownsguard, fills the screen. She lets out a bated breath, and nods. 

“That’s him. That’s my father.”

* * *

They’d been at this for hours. Gladio had been holding on to a sneaking suspicion that Rina was Cor’s daughter for a good few weeks; her pointed stares and penchant for long silences had got him wondering, and the tale of her past, however haltingly told, made him sure. It was too coincidental, that the dates of the attempt on her life and Cor’s sudden shift in behaviour too close to be pure coincidence. He’d shared with Ignis, hoping the tactician would be able to find more out given his intimacy with their resident mage, only to find that he’d thought the exact same thing. The framing of certain words, gestures in conversation and turns of phrase he’d only ever heard the Marshal use had sown a wondering seed in his mind, and with Noctis seeing fit to slow their pace, he’d had time to grill his taciturn lover for everything she knew of Insomnia. Which, as it turns out, wasn’t much. 

At camp, with chocobos resting and the others safely sequestered to the tent, Ignis’s questions had turned to her parents, and her face had clouded in the way it always did when they overstepped the bounds of her privacy. Ignis had been halfway through an apology when Rina had held up a hand and with a look of bitter shame explained the origins of her birth; her mother was a Gralean refugee, fleeing from the capital of Niflheim in her teens. Clever and capable and full of love, Rina had never had any reason to doubt her mother’s heart or allegiances. Her father was Lucian, as far as she was aware - the man had little to say of himself in her youth, and she knew only that his work involved armed combat, he was well travelled, and he loved her more than anything in the world. He’d said as much, _felt_ as much, and never given her a reason to doubt it. 

Once done, the silence between them had hung heavy, weighted with apprehensive tension as his lover slipped her hands from between his and inched away from their seats on the haven floor, shying away from his touch like she was waiting on a reprimand or an outburst. Like she expected him to be _angry_. The thought had uncurled the tongue he’d held in mute disbelief at her circumstances; when she flinched against his gentle hands, hesitated before she let him fold her against his chest, his heart ached. 

The first order of business had been another apology. The tasteless comments and barbed insults about the Nifs had come from all of them at one point or another, and the weight in Ignis’s gut had turned to lead at the realization that all those short sighs and deliberately blank looks hadn’t just been an unsaid complaint about their lack of tact. It had hurt. Perhaps more than that, it had made Rina wary of telling them, fearful of making that hushed admission, dread in her eyes and acid on her tongue. 

Rina was undeniably special to them. And in their ignorance, they’d hurt her. 

Again, she’d stopped him. Niflheim had cost them dearly, and she was no exception. Rina held no love for her maternal homeland - there was a reason her mother had left in the first place, after all - and despised the Emperor and his underlings just as much as any Lucian. It was only worry about her own treatment and trustworthiness coming into question that had the mage biting her tongue; an unyielding, insidious fear that they would turn her out of the group without hesitation, declare her an enemy too. 

Nonsense, really. Ignis had said as much. 

Night had truly overtaken the haven by the time Ignis had logicked away the tension from Rina’s shoulders, diffused her fear with a steady mixture of fact and feeling, ardent affections whispered against her skin between vivid descriptions of the many nationalities that had milled through the streets of Insomnia, the varied faces that filled the ranks of the Kingsglaive and Citadel staff. Rina _belonged_ with them, of that much Ignis was sure; she’d filled a place within their group he’d never known was empty, and he wasn’t about to let an inconsequential thing like bloodline deter her, not after she’d shed that blood for them, put herself on a daemons blade to protect the line of Lucis just as readily as the rest.

Explanations to the group at large had followed the next day over breakfast. Gladio had ruffled a large hand through her hair affectionately, an unspoken understanding already established between shield and mage from the day she’d taken the Yojimbo’s sword to her gut - Noct first, always. Prompto had laughed it off, a chuckled comment about how he’d never of noticed and Rina is glad for it, safe in the knowledge that her secret would remain safe to unfocused outside eyes.

Noctis had watched her across the sputtering campfire. Their gazes had caught, and Noct’s mouth had ticked up at the corners, that small, satisfied smile that Rina knew meant he was pleased. Warmth had flooded her chest at that, not just for his acceptance as king but for his approval as her friend. A shared, gentle happiness had suffused the morning, all five of their emotions gloriously in tune; Ignis’s was slightly more subdued, Prompto’s ticked up a little higher between bites of bacon, Gladio’s was large and unrestrained and Noct’s was a tight ball held close to his chest but Rina felt them all the same at their cores - a shared thread of love, one that now extended to her. 

As the light of dawn spread itself to the corners of Lucis, Rina had basked in it - the sunlight, and the atmosphere of her friends emotions - both comfortably warm. 

The morning had progressed as it always tended to - camping supplies tidied away, piling into the Regalia, bumping Gladio’s knee back to his side of the car as they had zipped along the roads of Cleigne, Fort Vaullery thankfully to their backs. Ignis and Gladio had been having a silent conversation through the rear view mirror that not even Rina could make sense of, and had instead settled into Noct’s side to rest her eyes, the prince’s head already using her shoulder as a pillow. By the time they had squared away the handful of hunts they’d come out with, wrestled a griffon for one of it’s precious feathers and dropped it off with Sania, Rina had been more than ready to shower off the grime in the rented caravan and call it a night. The knowing glint in Ignis’ eye had assured her that the evening wasn’t going to end the way she wanted. Already resigned, Rina had quickly scrubbed off, tucked her outerwear away and took a seat in one of the plastic chairs outside the caravan, waiting for the boys to filter out. She could have sworn Ignis’s glasses had flashed as he fixed her with that disarming gaze, Gladio pinning her with a look that brooked no bullshit. Noct’s gaze was softer, more curious, but none the less demanding. The edge of energy Prompto always held had only seemed to increase, like he was waiting for something big to unfold. 

They had each taken a seat. Rina had swallowed hard, nervous at the juxtaposition between their faces and their inquisitive emotions. A beat.

Then, the grilling began in earnest

The past she had been so unwilling to divulge was picked clean through a four-pronged interrogation, assembled against another timeline for which she had no context. They’d pressed hard on her father, and Rina had struggled to recall every detail; the smattering of scars along his jaw and cheek, piercing blue eyes the same shade as her own, solid stoicism and restrained smiles. Her father, her anchor to Lucis and the home she had started to forget, both now long lost. 

At last Ignis had leaned back in his seat, taken a confident drag of Ebony and steepled his fingers over the can, training his eyes on hers. The look had sent her mind down to the gutter, but such thoughts had quickly fled at the next thing he said: ‘We know who your father is.’

Which leads us back to the current moment. 

* * *

Prompto and Gladio visibly deflate, the tension in their shoulders seeping away at Rina’s final assessment. Ignis adjusts his glasses, a small, victorious smile curving across his lips. Noctis is already out of his chair, talking rapid-fire down his phone, and Rina catches the words ‘tombs’ and ‘Cauthess’ before the prince pockets the phone again with a smile. 

“Why do you look like the cat that got into the cream?” Rina asks slowly, suddenly on edge again. 

“Well, I made some quick arrangements, and Cor’s on his way. Should be here by midday tomorrow.” Noct looks very pleased with himself. Too pleased, Rina thinks, and Ignis must share the sentiment as he sighs, a warning on his tongue, but Prompto beats him to it.

“Dude, did you just- tell him? Did he even believe you?” 

Noctis scoffs. “Nah, told him we’ve got some new leads on the royal tombs. Which, hey, it’s not a lie. Rina’s already given us a ton of useful info. If we share with Cor, maybe he can fill in the blanks.” 

“And omitting the fact that his _daughter_ will be in attendance?” Ignis says, a thread of exasperation in his tone. 

“Relax, Specs. You know he’d probably freak out and bail if he knew he’d have to face his feelings. It’ll be an _emotional reunion_ ,” Noct explains, waving his hand for emphasis around the last statement. Gladio grunts. 

“Cor is gonna fucking kill us. You first, then us for letting you pull this stunt.” 

“Indeed,” Ignis mutters, taking another swig of Ebony as if to brace himself, “And what does the lady of the hour have to say about all this?” 

Rina is quiet for a long moment, hands clutched in her lap and face downturned. The silence stretches long enough that the annoyance flees Ignis’s face, and he moves, walking over and sliding gracefully to one knee before her, holding her hands between his own. The others hold their breath. 

“Are you alright, love?” Ignis murmurs, wishing desperately he could see her expression. 

“There’s still time to call it off,” Noct says quietly, worry growing on his face, “I can tell him we made a mistake, mistook some old leads for new ones. It’s okay.” 

It’s an out. But they all see the way she squares her shoulders, lifting her head to look each of them in the eye. 

“I hope you’re right about all this. I _want_ you to be right,” she struggles out, voice tight and hoarse, eyes shining with unshed tears, “And… thank you. All of you. Thank you.”


	2. the reassurance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rina can't settle her nerves. Gladio's presence offers both a balm, and a whole _other_ problem entirely.
> 
> * * *

Rina can’t sleep.

Truth be told, she’s not sure why she thought to even try; the nerves that set in following Noct’s impromptu phone call had swallowed her whole, ruining her appetite for what was probably a wonderful stew and making her too jittery to even entertain the thought of rest. So here she sits, a cup of lukewarm gas station tea clutched between her hands and the low sound of the generator working off to her left, the occasional cry of daemons milling about beyond the lights of the rest stop an uncomfortable reminder of just what lurks in the dark. She sighs, takes a sip, and wrinkles her nose in disgust. 

“That bad, huh?” 

Rina jolts at the voice, murky liquid sloshing in the cup as she whips her head around to the caravan door. Gladio’s form fills the frame, bed-headed, shirtless and rather fetching in just a pair of grey sweatpants, voice thick with sleep. She hopes he can’t see the blush that no doubt dusts her cheeks, settling back into the chair and turning her eyes to the sky as the shield descends the steps and plops down next to her. 

“It _is_ that bad. It’d be a wonder if they’ve cleaned the filter in our lifetime,” she says finally, and Gladio snorts. 

“Don’t come cryin’ to me when that stuff makes you sick. Even Prompto’s weird-ass sodas are probably less of a health code violation,” he rumbles, and the deep, earthy tone of it both eases her nerves in its comfort and sets something alight in her chest that she’s not quite ready to confront. Gladio’s emotions are warm, as usual, like the sunny spot on an armchair by the window, and as usual, Rina’s helpless to his pull. There’s a thread of concern in him this time, radiating outward, and Rina runs her finger up the seam of the paper cup in her hands as quiet descends, trying to figure out a casual way to broach the subject of ‘what’s worrying you enough that you’re awake at 2am’. 

Gladio pulls his chair a little closer, and sucks in a breath. Looks like she won’t have to.

“Y’know, for the one who’s been raving about Iggy’s cooking since you started travelling with us, you barely ate tonight. Last night,” he corrects, batting away the finger she’d raised to wag at him, “And stop me if I’m wrong, but I’m pretty sure you haven’t slept yet.”

“Shit, do I look that bad?” Rina mumbles, a half-hearted chuckle on its heels that’s quickly silenced as Gladio cups her jaw, running a thumb underneath her eye. The contact is both soothing and electric, his large hand rough but warm against her skin, holding her gaze with brown eyes that shift to molten gold in the low light. Heat blooms in her, the small sparks his voice had set off building into a fire and Rina isn’t sure whether to snuff the flames or let them rage. She’s not entirely sure there’s a choice. 

“You look exhausted, is what,” the shield says softly, raising his free hand to mirror the actions of the other, and Rina melts into the touch, “Keep going like this and you’ll burn out.” 

“Trying to say you’d be lost without me, huh?” Rina sighs, a smirk slipping across her face. Gladio snorts again, one last sweeping caress under her eyes before he pulls back, and she internally mourns the loss of contact. 

“ _Some_ of us have gotten pretty reliant on you, I’d bet. Who else would the prince turn to when he needs his personal air conditioner?” 

That garners a genuine laugh from the mage, and Gladio smiles in the corner of her vision, the amber of his eyes glowing in the lamplight. She finally pushes the tea away as it tapers off, settling back into her chair again and watching distant stars wink away in the sky. That seed of nerves still digs uncomfortably in her chest, but Gladio’s tender touch (Affection? Dare she call it that?) has eased it, even if only a little. 

“You should go back to sleep,” she says softly, drumming her fingers against the plastic tabletop, “Can’t have the king’s shield too tired to do his job.” 

Gladio’s dismissive. “We’re not goin’ anywhere tomorrow, and I can survive on four hours. Besides, there’s still something under your skin, right?” Rina stiffens at the question, caught. Gladio hums in confirmation - the man can read her like his novels, straightforward and disarming. He turns in his chair, levels those eyes on her. 

“Talk to me, booksmart.”

Rina groans, the tender moment evaporating. “Of all the stupid nicknames…”

“Could just call you magey-“

“Don’t even think about it, Amicitia.” 

The shield holds his hands up in mock defeat, and Rina curses again, trying to sort through the tangle of her own thoughts. There are so many errant threads she doesn’t know what to start with; ‘ _will he recognise me?’_ , _‘was he worried when I went missing?’_ , _‘did he look for me?’_.

_‘Will he even care?’_

She voices the last one, haltingly. Something about the company of the boys brings her insecurities bubbling to the surface, or maybe now she simply feels halfway comfortable enough to share. Or, perhaps, it’s the knowledge that despite the jokes and sarcasm and occasional tiff, they’ll take her concerns seriously. Even now, as she speaks, the easy smile Gladio has been wearing shifts into something more contemplative, considering. Eventually, long after Rina has fallen silent, he speaks.

“Y’know, I talked about this with Iggy,” He starts, slow and methodical, “When you disappeared, Cor- He changed, Rina. Nobody knew the true reason why, but it was like he just… shut down. Not that he was the most talkative guy anyway, but for a while he withdrew so far into himself he barely spoke, other than to bark out orders. Took years for him to break back out, but he’s still quiet, or quieter than I remember him as a kid.”

The shield leans back in his chair as well, training eyes on a distant star as he talks. Rina watches his profile, the sadness in his eyes, knows her own are a mirror. 

“The guy doesn’t have family,” Gladio continues, clenching hands in his lap, “Didn’t have anyone he could rely on but my dad and the king, and they were so busy with their own shit - Noct was still recovering from the daemon attack, and then everything went down with Glauca and Tenebrae. Cor was meant to be holding the fort down back home, all by his damn self, and everybody thought it was just the stress of the job that made him clam up. To think, he’d lost his daughter and her mother and just… carried on. Never told a soul.”

The silence hangs, weighted, and Gladio lets it. The knowledge is sobering. Rina knew full well her father didn’t like to spill personal details unnecessarily. He never lied, but would also never speak about the things held close to his heart unless asked. And if no-one knew to ask… 

Some nights, not long after the attack, Rina had selfishly believed that she was the one in the most pain, the splitting scab across her back and the bitter sting of childhood rage and grief sunk deep in her bones. Cor’s heartache likely sat on par with her own. It hurt, imagining the choice he must have had to make; his missing daughter, or his duty to the king, to Insomnia. Infallible loyalty to the crown must run in their blood, she thinks offhandedly, remembering the stupid stunts she’d pulled protecting Noct despite barely knowing the prince, ready to die for a line that had supposedly left her behind, and can’t find it in her to be bitter. 

Gladio drags a hand over his face, stopping to rub at his stubble. The concern in his heart tangles now with regret as he talks. “I wish he’d told us about you, y’know. Wish we could’ve hung out as kids, trained together and all that. You’d of been clever enough for the council no problem, and strong enough for the Crownsguard. Hell, the Glaives, even, with all that magic,” he says with a gesture to her hands. Rina flexes them without thinking, feels the energy like a second pulse in her veins. A Glaive, huh? 

The image of Nyx, half-burned by the ring and breathing his last in the ruins of Insomnia, flashes through her mind. Perhaps not.

Gladio’s mouth ticks up at the corners, unaware of her thoughts as he kicks his feet up on an empty chair, eyes dropping closed. “Probably sick and tired of hearing about all the fate and destiny shit, but I think you were meant to be with us. Not to say we didn’t run well before, but I think I can speak for all of us when I say we run _better_ with you. Could’ve done without Iggy being on the wrong end of a coeurl to figure it out, though.” There’s a rueful grin on his face, and Rina can’t help but smile back, albeit a little awkwardly. 

A couple stumbles out of the gas station, laughing with fingers intertwined, stopping to kiss against their car like nobody’s watching. Gladio and Rina snort in unison, but there’s a softness to it. The giddy love permeating across the empty car park brings her thoughts back to Ignis, sleeping steadily away behind them, and her own heart warms; would they have been friends as children? Would she still have fallen so thoroughly for the charming, gentlemanly advisor, without the cataclysm of their first meeting?

She thinks back; to the blood and the smell of ozone, Ignis propped up on her kitchen chair, pale-faced and in obvious pain but still determined to walk her through the method for dinner that night, smiling into his cup of coffee. Brushing hands over the spread of her journals in the small hours of the morning, rapid-fire conversations on the ancient Somnians and the history of Lucis as they hunted her logs for hints of the Royal Tombs. Dry jokes and ardent compliments, favourite meals and stashed cans of coffee. 

Warmth curls deep in her chest, holding tight to the memories. “I’m happy enough with the way things worked out, I think. Nursing Ignis back to health gave us a chance to form that first bond - it’s what made me sweet on him in the first place,” she mumbles, sheepish. “Not to mention you guys poking around my house like you owned the damn place-“ a pointed stare at the shield, and he huffs out a laugh in response, “-Helped you find exactly what you were looking for with the tombs and stuff. I can help _because_ of the time I spent stuck out here, and you’re all better for it.” 

Her expression turns wistful, tone slow and soft with mounting sorrow. “It’s probably for the best I was out here, during the attack. If you think about it, if I’d been in the king’s service... I’d of likely died.” The ‘ _along with the king and your father_ ’ goes unsaid, but Gladio picks up on it regardless, the smile slipping from his face. Quiet consumes the space between them, a yawning gulf of unspoken emotion, but there's understanding between the two of them, and Rina lets the moment pass without comment. 

“What were they like?” Gladio's voice is hoarse, barely there as the question rings in the empty parking lot. She doesn’t need to ask who he’s talking about. 

“Brave. There was fear in their hearts, for sure, but not for themselves. Your father’s last thoughts were a constant switch between the king, Iris and you. Wondering if you were in danger, praying Iris would make it out of the city, regret at not being able to dispatch Glauca before his death.” 

Rina turns in her chair, reaching to cradle Gladio’s hands in her own, running her thumbs along his palms. “You carry him with you, y’know? His memory and his legacy.” She moves to touch his chest, fingers resting against the eagle head where his heartbeat thumps rhythmically beneath. “Sure, sometimes Noct gets on your nerves and pisses you off but your devotion to him is infallible, I can _feel_ it. He’s always on your mind, in some capacity. That’s what makes a shield, as proven by history, as proven by your father, even to his last breath.” 

Her hands drop back to his, and their gazes catch - amber on ice - the ball of grief Gladio has held close to his chest since they met slowly unfurling. Rina smiles softly. “And for all his devotion to the crown, he loved his children no less. I felt it, in those last moments. Astrals, he loved you, worried for you. Big, warm hearts must be an Amicitia gene, hm.” A choked laugh slips from Gladio at that, and though the sadness still sits in his eyes and his emotions, it’s subdued, fades further as his attentions shift something else. Her hands on his, she assumes, from the direction of his gaze. He laces their fingers and holds them still in his lap, breathing deep as if to steady himself. 

A smile, filled with warmth, spreads across his face, right up to his eyes. 

“Thanks, magey.” 

“Oh, come on!” Rina cries, snatching a hand back to bat at his arm. Gladio guffaws, cuts it off into a snort when she hits him again to shut him up. 

“It’s said with affection,” he protests, but there’s no heat to it, still holding her hand, and he cradles her jaw like he knows it’ll calm her down; it does, because she’s weak and exhausted and appreciates the contact far too much. She fights the urge to lean into the touch, instead making a request that had been lingering at the back of her mind since she realised the connection between the dead man in her dream and the prince’s shield. 

“Tell me about him? About Clarus, I mean.”

The request stops Gladio in his tracks, the movement of his thumb against her cheek freezing. “Why?”

“I guess I’m just curious. I mean, he was the king’s shield, sure, but he was more than that. I don’t usually get to find out about the people I dream of, nor do they usually lead such interesting lives. You, uh, you don’t have to.” 

Gladio shrugs, retracting his hands to lean back in the chair. “Just wondered why. Guess you are kind of a history nut,” he says, grinning at the indignant ‘hey!’ it earns him, “So you wanna know about the Amicitias?”

Rina settles back in her chair as Gladio clears his throat dramatically, leaning forward on his knees. 

“When I was ten, dad had a sword collection at home…”


End file.
